


Tangerine Skin

by barelypink



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Comfort, David would love him even if he were, Hand Jobs, M/M, Patrick Brewer is not a cheese puff, Schmoopy Love, Sex, The Presidential Suite, Wedding Planning, season six coda, spray tan from hell, wedding photos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22944823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barelypink/pseuds/barelypink
Summary: “Can we just agree to stop making this wedding a bigger deal than it needs to be? We are not these people.”Or David and Patrick have a conversation about their engagement photos after a spray tan derails them. A coda set after s06e08 "The Presidential Suite."
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Theodore "Ted" Mullens/Alexis Rose
Comments: 60
Kudos: 303





	Tangerine Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and barely edited so all mistakes are mine. Let's just pretend my tenses aren't all over the place. I also know nothing about music so who knows what I'm even doing here. 
> 
> Thanks to vivianblakesunrisebay for general encouragement and for listening to me whine about writing this and what to title this and what to rate this and basically just this whole thing. You're the best.

The door had barely closed behind Stevie’s departing flannel back when David turned to look at Patrick still fuming in his chair, tangerine skin faintly glowing under the soft light of the corner lamps. He did look sun-kissed and noticeable just like David had wanted, but now he also didn’t look like _his_ Patrick, whose luminescent skin always blazed to life so beautifully underneath David’s olive-tinted hands. Patrick never seemed to mind being inconspicuous, the perfect yang to David’s yin, but maybe he’d let Patrick fade too much into the background. Maybe David had shoved him there in his desperation to plan the perfect wedding. 

David cleared his throat and glanced at the gold rings still securely fixed around his fingers. He’d never thought to question them or the person who had put them there until now. “What did you mean about not making this wedding a bigger deal than it needs to be? About us not being ‘those people’?’”

Patrick’s hand stilled against his thigh where his fingers had been drumming a persistent staccato beat since Stevie had finished taking a few—okay, a few dozen—photos of them and finally glanced up at David. His warm brown eyes looked more like the jaundiced hue of ocher now that his face was so artificially bronzed. How did David ever think this was a good idea? 

David moved slowly to the loveseat to sit down again, eyes glued to the coffee table Jake made. As if Patrick needed further proof of David’s faults. Now he owned a veritable wooden monument to just another one of David’s fuck ups. 

“You know I’ve always been one of ‘those people,’” David said quietly.

David resisted the urge to flourish his hands over the coffee table like it was exhibit A. Patrick was a smart guy. He could do the math. 

“I know you are, David,” Patrick finally replied, hands digging into his knees. “I just thought that maybe you didn’t need to be that kind of person…with me.”

David pursed his lips and nodded. 

Patrick leaned forward, eyes intently searching David’s. “Before you start spiraling and thinking that I wish you were any different than you are, I don’t. I don’t want you to change a single thing about yourself.”

David hummed under his breath, willing himself not to spiral. Patrick asked him not to. For Patrick, he would try not to.

"I thought you wanted a big, beautiful wedding." David hated that his voice quavered as he said it.

"Not really. I mean, not in quite the same way as you do, I think," Patrick finally said. 

David exhaled slowly. He was still not spiraling. Nope. Definitely not spiraling. 

“David, I know you want pageantry and perfection, but I don’t really care where we do it or what the centerpieces look like or what we eat so long as I get to stand up in front of all of our friends and family and bind myself to you for the rest of my life. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“It seemed like these engagement photos were a big deal to you though.”

Patrick leaned back in his chair and laughed to himself a little. “Yeah, but mostly because I wanted to show off how hot you are.”

“Oh, so you think I’m hot?”

“David, you know you are. You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. And you’re marrying me.” Patrick sounded faintly incredulous at that. David loved how Patrick seemed to think he was still somehow getting the better end of the deal in this partnership. “I guess I figured if my friends and family saw us together, they’d understand.”

“Understand what?” David asked, hands flipping up in question. 

“Why I’m so happy here. Why everything I did to get here, to be with you, that it was all worth it.”

“Well, I’m sure there are some photographs that will work. I happen to be very—”

“—photogenic,” Patrick finished for David. “Yes, I know.” 

Patrick smiled fondly at David, but there was still a tightness around his mouth, a pinched and pained look simmering in his eyes. 

“There’s something else you’re not saying,” David prodded. 

Patrick leaned back in his chair now, his hands worrying the grooves of his palms with callused thumbs. Never a good sign. 

It took several moments for Patrick to finally speak. When he did, he didn’t look David in the eye. 

“You’ve never tried to change me either, David, and I’ve always felt like we’re equals, like you were just as enthusiastic to show me off as I am of you. Until today. Today was the first day you made me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you.”

“What are you talking about? You’re too good for me.”

Patrick pointed at his face, burnished skin flaring harshly in the fading light. 

“Then why did you want me to look different?” 

David didn’t want to answer that question. It would reflect poorly on him and he would be guaranteed to spiral down the drain in a tight corkscrew that even Patrick wouldn’t be able to rescue him from. 

“Do I embarrass you, David?”

Patrick’s voice was measured, but David could detect the traces of despair edging around the corners. 

“Patrick, no. Never.”

“I’ve seen the people you used to date and I know I can’t compare to most of them...”

“Well, we should just send them a picture of you in your Cabaret costume. That would shut them up,” David burst out hotly. 

Patrick blushed. Or David thought Patrick was blushing. It was hard to tell under all that spray tan and David already missed the way he could read each shade of red that flushed Patrick's skin on the sliding scale from embarrassment to arousal like an open book. Patrick ears climbed up his head just a tad. A bit embarrassed but pleased then. The ears didn’t lie either. 

David had bungled one thing after another today and he knew only one way to make it up to Patrick, to convince him he’d read David’s intentions all wrong. He slid off the couch and dropped to his knees in front of Patrick, gripping his hands onto Patrick’s knees with just the barest hint of pressure. David spread Patrick’s knees apart and fit himself into the space between Patrick’s glorious thighs and slid his hands up and up and up until he had Patrick’s hips securely fastened between his thumbs. 

David could hear Patrick’s breath hitch as he dug his fingers into the tender space above the waistband of his pants. Patrick liked to be manhandled by the hipbones, liked the way David would sometimes demonstrate his innate strength by pushing and pulling him into his desired position by the pelvis. 

David grabbed Patrick’s hand with his and brought it up to his own face, molding Patrick’s hand around David’s ear and jaw. He kept his own palm there, covering Patrick’s finely constructed hand. David could feel the bones and skin and veins throbbing with life under his touch. Patrick’s hands were a marvel, one of his favorite things about Patrick. Well, top three at least. 

“Patrick, please look at me.”

Patrick’s eyes were blazing now but they met David’s and David couldn’t help but smile. 

“Patrick, you have to believe me when I say that I think you’re beautiful and I want to show you off to the whole world too. Because you’re mine. You don’t think I know how goddamn lucky I am?”

“David.” Patrick’s voice was ragged and rough. He didn’t—or couldn’t—say more. 

David dropped his hand back to Patrick’s knee, but Patrick’s hand stayed firmly cupping David’s cheek, the gentle pad of his thumb caressing David’s parted lips. It was all the invitation David needed to surge up and crush Patrick’s lips into his, kissing him roughly but with real purpose now. 

Patrick moaned against David’s mouth and David needed more of him. He needed all of him. 

David rose gracefully to his feet, finding Patrick’s hands as he stood, and tugged insistently at them until Patrick, too, was standing. His eyes were dancing with both greed and desire so David pulled him wordlessly to the bed and pushed Patrick into the pillows as soon as he could, David following on top of him. 

Patrick was trying to get his hands over David’s body now, sinking his fingers into the folds of David’s shirt, slipping under the glittering sweater he had so carefully chosen this morning. 

“No, Patrick,” David said, voice low and husky. “This is for you and only you.” 

“But David—” Patrick started to protest but David cut him off with a kiss. 

“There’s a time for giving and a time for taking. Let me give you this.” 

David tugged at the neck of Patrick’s soft blue T-shirt and dropped tiny bites and kisses along the ridge of Patrick’s shoulder and neck just the way he knew made Patrick’s toes tingle. 

Patrick had told him that once, that David made his toes tingle. 

How was a person supposed to carry on after hearing a thing like that?

David pressed one final kiss into Patrick’s neck just below his ear and then clamped his teeth over the velvet flesh of Patrick’s earlobe while his hands drifted under the elastic waist of his boxers. “You’re beautiful, Patrick Brewer. If only everyone could see you the way I do.”

Patrick swallowed audibly then. David got Patrick’s pants shoved down around his ankles and Patrick kicked them off the rest of the way while David pulled Patrick’ shirt over his head. David took a moment to inspect the damage to Patrick’s formerly pristine skin. The face and arms had been the hardest hit but now only had the faintest tinge of bronze to them. 

He was still achingly, impossibly gorgeous. 

“If only everyone could see you right now,” David whispered as his hand closed around Patrick’s still perfectly pale and unblemished cock. 

David had a staggering amount of experience sleeping with a lot of different people but very limited exposure to sleeping with just one person. But after two years of being with Patrick, of kissing no one but Patrick, of sleeping with no one but Patrick, David had discovered that bodies could be played like instruments. He knew now all the right scales to strum across Patrick’s skin, knew exactly when the notes needed to be played _adagio_ —slow—or _allegro_ —fast—or when a _glissando_ up the arm could cause Patrick to shudder and gasp his way into a thunderous crescendo. 

David wasn’t a musician, but he had mastered Patrick’s strings and curves. He knew to tickle along his ribcage, press kisses at the juncture of his jaw, scrape fingernails along the underside of his knee where the skin was most sensitive and vulnerable. All the while, he stroked and stroked and stroked the length of Patrick’s hard cock, extracting long sibilant sounds from deep in Patrick’s throat.

Now a hand in his hair, just skimming across the bridge of Patrick’s ear where David threaded his fingers through the short strands and then moved up and up and up into the longer hair at the crown of his head that Patrick liked to have tugged and pulled. David angled Patrick’s head just right and covered Patrick’s lips with his white hot mouth. 

Patrick could be downright filthy during sex, but some of the time, he didn’t want any talking at all. David could tell that this is one of those times, that Patrick wanted to feel every touch, hear every breath, dig his fingers into the bedsheets, and hold on for dear life. David didn’t mind this kind of silence with Patrick, he’d discovered, because their bodies didn’t lie the way their words sometimes did. 

David worked his mouth and teeth and tongue over Patrick’s nipple, his shoulder, the soft indentation of his shoulder as his hands stroked and teased and fondled until he could feel Patrick’s muscles tighten in preparation for the final crashing conclusion. 

David's lips ghosted over Patrick’s mouth as the end came, hot and wet and slick, Patrick gasping against David’s cheek. David couldn't help but smile in response. He didn’t orgasm, but he could feel Patrick’s ricocheting through his own skin and he didn't want anything more than that.

“See?” David breathed, lips smiling against Patrick’s. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

They were the truest words David knew. 

***

After, when they were tucked up and ready for bed, David held his phone to his chest waiting for Patrick to punch his pillows into just the right shape. 

“Can I show you something?” 

David felt a bit shy, all of a sudden, but Patrick nodded so David handed him his phone. It was open to one of the photos Stevie took of them right near the end, when Patrick had started to soften and let go of his irritation just a smidge. In the photo, David’s head is hooked over the crook of Patrick’s shoulder. His eyes are shut but his smile is wide and radiant, like he’s laughing at something Patrick just said. Patrick’s nose is tucked into the dimple of David’s cheek, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes are fond and full of David. 

“This is a great photo,” Patrick finally said. His current face was also fond and full of love.

“We’ll take more photos when your skin is back to its normal color. I want to show you off to the whole world too, but just the way you are,” David said as he rubbed a hand up Patrick’s bicep. “This one is just for us.”

He plucked the phone out of Patrick’s hands and clicked the screen to black. 

“You drive me crazy, David. You know that, right?” Patrick said, but his face betrayed his fond affection.

“I know I do.”

“But then you always find a way to make it okay.” 

Patrick brought David in for a kiss. When he pulled away, he whispered into David’s ear. “Thanks for making me feel beautiful even though I looked like a cheese puff.”

David laughed. “Well, you know how I feel about cheese.”

They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

***

The hour was late enough that the night was wrapped in a quiet stillness when there was a knock on the door. The rap was tentative and almost apologetic, but that didn’t stop David from snapping to attention with cold-fingered panic by the time the second knock sounded. Patrick’s response was slower and more sluggish, but he was raising his head as David slid out of bed. 

David slept closest to the door anyway so he might as well. Somehow he had still picked the side that meant he’d get murdered first. 

Patrick was up and flicking on the bedside lamp just as David leaned into the door to peer through the peephole. He gasped audibly and Patrick was instantly by his side as David opened the door to reveal Alexis, eyes red and eyelashes clumped together. There were dark smudges under her eyes and her hair was pulled into a messy top knot. A bathrobe was thrown carelessly over her pink pajamas but she was curiously not wearing any shoes. She didn’t seem to notice. 

“Ted and I broke up,” she said with no preamble, chin jutting out in defiance of the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “I thought I was okay, but it turns out I need a hug from both my brothers right now.”

And just like that, she was in their arms. 

It came out then, the whole story. How Ted flew in from the Galapagos to surprise her but came bearing news of a long-term job offer. How they made the hard decision—the right and mature but impossibly hard decision—to end their relationship despite how much they loved each other. Because of how much they loved each other. How they danced together one last time across the scratched linoleum floor of the cafe and how they’d said their good-byes to each other next to the counter where they’d first met. 

They guided Alexis to the bed and tucked her in under the sheets, settling in on each side of her and wrapping their arms around her like they were forming an Alexis sandwich. She rested her head on David’s chest and Patrick at her back, enveloping Alexis in his comforting warmth. She exhaled and they could feel the tension drip out of her body as she relaxed into their arms some more. 

She turned to look at Patrick then and wrinkled her nose. 

“Patrick, are you okay? You look like an oompa loompa.”

“Yeah, Alexis,” Patrick said with a tiny burst of laughter. “It was a momentary lapse in judgment, but I’m going to be alright. Just like you. You’re going to be alright too.” 

“Of course I am,” Alexis said. She booped Patrick on the end of his nose and shut her eyes with a sigh. In minutes, she was quietly snuffling against David's arm.

David lifted his head to meet Patrick’s eyes across Alexis’ sleeping body and they were soft in the faint afterglow. Their hands were clasped together over Alexis’s back and David looked at Patrick’s beautiful hand, stroking a slow, methodical rhythm across it with his thumb. The color might be wrong, but the feel of Patrick’s sinews and bones and skin underneath his hand had never felt more right. 

And David knew he was exactly where he wanted to be for the rest of his life.


End file.
